


Bump

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 07:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21424144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis is left home alone.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Bump

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When Noctis’ father first announced his trip to Altissia, sans his favourite and only son, Noctis was actually excited. Regis sat him down and explained how grave a responsibility it would be—for the duration of three days, he would be alone in their mansion. Most of the staff would stick to the king, and the rest wouldn’t be coming in over the weekend. Noctis asks if he could have his friends over for a party and was unilaterally told _no_. He couldn’t go stay with Ignis either; _someone_ has to be in the royal estate at all times, safe and protected, because there is no security system like that embedded in their home. Noctis was still stoked. _Three days_ all to himself. He had all sorts of crazy plans.

The first morning, he rode his bike through the halls, screaming the loudest, most offensive music he knew. Lunch came, and he raided the kitchen, eating solely dessert. He was too sick to eat dinner. 

And now it’s after dark, and Noctis still has a self-induced stomach ache, a muddy, broken bike wedged into the sitting room’s couch, and the evening’s light showers have swelled into a raging storm that sounds like it’s going to break right through the windows. Noctis tells himself he isn’t scared, because that would be ridiculous, except then a fork of lightning splits the sky, and suddenly, the power’s out. 

And Noctis is sitting alone in the living room, his horror movie abruptly over, right when the weirdly sexualized zombie was about to burst through the screen and rip his face off. 

He sits there in silence for a few seconds, listening to the rain beat against the windows behind him. The stars through that fog provide just enough light to see the coffee table’s silhouette. The mansion is otherwise eerily quiet. It’s also too cold. Noctis hasn’t been able to find the thermostat and never will now. He’s used to just complaining to his father or servants until the heating is turned up for him. At the moment, there’s no one to complain to. 

Thunder booms. Noctis nearly jumps. He hears something heavy slam against a wall, like doors bursting open, maybe a floor below him. He snaps to attention, heart racing wildly in his chest. The sound doesn’t repeat itself—he wonders if he imagined it. If his mind’s playing tricks on him. Or if the Empire found out he’s home alone and has come to assassinate him. 

Noctis swallows. He reaches for his phone to call Ignis, except he can’t find it anywhere. He pats all over the couch around him, then the coffee table, then hears a crunch and feels something snap beneath his feet. He gulps and bends down, pulling the rectangle out from under his shoe. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket. It won’t turn on. He’s trapped.

He hears something creek. Noctis shoots off the couch, dropping his phone again, and hears it clatter along the rug. When he concentrates beyond the heavy rainfall, he’s sure he can hear footsteps. _Someone’s in the house with him._ But it’s Saturday, and no one should be showing up until Monday.

The footsteps are coming closer. Noctis tries to summon his sword, but it doesn’t form all the way, and he swears, realizing something must be in the way of it—a lamp or table or something—he can’t see at all. He backs up, wondering if it’d be better to hide. He’ll never win a fight in the dark. Maybe he could crouch behind the armchair and pray whoever’s coming doesn’t find him. Or _what_ever. It could be a daemon. It could be zombies desperate for his superior royal brain.

Noctis swallows, stumbles back, trips over the lamp’s wiring and goes crashing to the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs. Thunder claps over top of it, and the footsteps become twice as loud, twice as quick, and suddenly a beam of light is sweeping over Noctis’ body like an alien tractor beam.

Except Gladiolus is holding the cell phone up. 

He stares down at Noctis, who might have pissed himself. 

Gladiolus’ gaze slowly lowers from Noctis’ wide-eyed face to the damp spot in his jeans. Then Gladiolus visibly tries to hold back his laughter but fails. 

Noctis is too relieved to be embarrassed. He conks back onto the floor, the sword he’d summoned dematerializing. He should’ve known his father wouldn’t leave him _truly_ alone.

Gladiolus reaches out a hand and offers, “C’mon, Princess. Let’s get you cleaned up.”


End file.
